Too Much Pity
by KiloJoule
Summary: Meredith finds a drunk Thatcher in her yard. How will she react?
1. A black Surprise

~**Timeline-season 5, after No Good at Saying Sorry. Izzie is not sick in my story, obviously. Thank you so much for reviews-it really helps make stories better. Anything you see that you don't like, please tell me. I will try to fix it.**

Meredith had just gotten off of her shift. She was tired, but her brain was still working overtime and she was thinking about her latest case. She stopped for a second to rub the back of her neck. She sighed in contentment. She would be home soon, asleep. She made her way to her car and pulled out of the hospital. She was aware of her drive home, but just barely. She was tired. Her eyes burned and she felt sick to her stomach. She felt the familiar crunch of her driveway and stumbled to the front door. She tripped on something on her way. The black blob that made her fall moaned. She got back up to her feet and inspected.

"Thatcher?" she asked in half disgust and half surprise.

"Meredith.." he grumbled. "Please..please.."

Meredith looked at him. She felt pity. She never expected to feel that. Anger, yes. Pity, no.

"Okay, Thatcher, why don't you come inside." she said, exasperated at her weakness. She tried to make herself emotionally distant at this time. She just didn't think about anything. She looked down as he tried to stand up. _Pathetic, _she thought.

She sighed. "Come on, Thatcher." She reached down to grab his arm.

He fought back. In one solid, smooth motion, he slung his arm back and decked Meredith in the face. She was not expecting that. She felt her face throb, and felt liquid running from her nose and somewhere else. She couldn't think of anything but the pain for a moment, and she let out a cry of pain. Meanwhile, on the ground, Thatcher was slowly getting up.

"Oh, Meredith, I am so sorry…" he slurred at her, tears in his eyes. Meredith was sucked into his misery. She knew loss. And she was the better person here. She was not going to let Thatcher turn her into a horrible human being.

"Just get up Thatcher, it's okay." she said harshly. Her face still hurt. He swayed, and she supported him into the house, not an easy task, seeing as he outweighed her by about 100 pounds and he was at least a head taller than her. She was tired from the exertion. She helped him to the couch, where he immediately passed out. Instead of worrying about her life, she went upstairs and plopped into bed, loosely aware of her mind telling her she was insane for letting him in her house. She let her mind wander…

She woke up and was painfully aware of her bruised face. Izzie took that moment to barge into her room, a coffee in her hand.

"Why is your father on the couch?" she looked at her softy.

Meredith put the pillow over her already obscured face.

"He was drunk, and in the front yard. Police would have came and made this whole big thing or whatever…."

"Okay. Just…make him bathe or something. It's ruining my breakfast time." She left as quick as she entered.

Meredith sighed. She should go kick him out. She sat up and wandered into the hallway. She walked downstairs, slightly disoriented, and looked at the couch. Hmm. He was already gone. _Easier,_ she thought. She went into the kitchen and plopped down, and got really lightheaded.

"Whoa, must be hungry!" she said happily. She loved Izzie's cooking.

Izzie turned around, apron and cooking utensil equipped. Her face quickly turned from a carefree expression to an extremely worried and surprised one.

"What?" Meredith was confused.

"Oh my god Meredith what happened to you?!" her face was marked with concern and pain.

Meredith felt her face. Crap. It must look awful. She forgot to wipe the dried blood off of her face before going downstairs.

"Izzie! Izzie. It's fine." she reassured her. She took off for the bathroom and grimaced at the sight. It did look horrible. She had blood from a cut below her eye, and from her nose. In addition to that, she noticed, after she wiped the blood off, she had two wonderful black eyes, and a bruise around the cut.

"Thank you, daddy…" she muttered under her breath.

"Thatcher did this to you?!" Izzie yelled, appearing behind her. Meredith jumped at her loud voice and got a little more nauseous. "I swear! Meredith, are you okay? You don't look too goo…" at that moment in time Meredith leaned over the toilet and threw up. _Great, _she thought. _Now I have a concussion_.

"Derek is going to kill Thatcher." Izzie said before vanishing through the doorway.

Meredith leaned over and thought, _Hmmm..I think my life just got a little more complicated._


	2. Overreactions?

~**Timeline-season 5, after No Good at Saying Sorry. Izzie is not sick in my story, obviously. Thank you so much for reviews-it really helps make stories better. Anything you see that you don't like, please tell me. I will try to fix it. (Is this chapter confusing?)**

Izzie bounced back to the bathroom, phone in hand. "I called Derek, and told him you needed to be checked out. And no, I did not tell him what happened. He is also very annoying when he doesn't get information that he wants. He's at the hospital, so I told him I'd give you a ride." She kneeled beside Meredith. "are you sure you are okay?"

"Izzie, I am fine. I've just got to get some painkillers or something. Here, I'll even go with you to the hospital."

Meredith stood up slowly. "See, I'm already feeling better."

Izzie gave her a skeptical look but Meredith was glad she didn't voice her objections.

"Well, come on then." Izzie walked Meredith out to the car. The ride was silent, and Meredith tried to pretend she wasn't nauseous and sleepy. She got out of the car and felt out of her body. She vaguely remembered Derek calling her name softly, and being in a bed. The next thing she was conscious of was Derek's hand on top of her own.

"Derek?" She mumbled. She smiled and stretched. She flinched. Ouch.

"Hi Meredith. Welcome back." He smiled sweetly at her. "I was worried. You did have a concussion, but it's okay now. It's okay." He stroked her hair.

"Wow, how did I get the hot doctor?" she smiled, then turned serious. "How long was I out?" Her eyebrows knitted together. She noticed she wasn't even wearing a hospital gown.

"Not very long. Now, Meredith, would you mind me asking how you are bloody and bruised? And why I was practically the last one to find out? I mean, Jesus Mer, I know you are clumsy, but you had to have been way drunk to do this much damage."

Meredith sighed. "Derek, if I tell you this, you have to promise not to make a big deal about it. Okay?"

Derek frowned. "Okay…I promise. What is it?"

"It was Thatcher." Meredith bit her lip.

"What do you mean, it was Thatcher?" Derek looked at her, suspicious.

"I mean, this-" she pointed to her face, "was Thatcher." Meredith watched with alarm as Derek's face began to turn colors they were not supposed to.

"Derek?" Meredith stared at him. "Derek!"

He showed his pointer finger, indicating he needed a second. Meredith sighed. She knew that telling him was a bad idea. He would never understand.

"Meredith." His voice was deathly calm. "I am your fiancé. The only thought going through my brain day in and out is you. Where you are, what you are doing, what you are thinking, and if you are safe. It hurts me to think you are suffering and I am not there. And so, how am I supposed to act like it's no big deal when you are obviously hurt. Will you talk about it?"

Meredith stared at the opposite wall. "Derek, can we just let this go? He was drunk and…"

"I cannot believe what I am hearing!" Derek shot up and paced the room. You expect me to just sit here and do nothing? I can't even call the police? Why are you suddenly defending him? He's a disgusting imitation of a human being!" He flexed his fists as if to prove the point. "I thought he was in AA? What the hell happened to that?"

Meredith swallowed. "Derek. Stop this right now. I can handle this. This is my…Thatcher. This is my personal problem. This is something I need to do myself. Thatcher is…complicated. He needs help. I need to be a better person."

"Meredith I know what you are trying to do. But he left you bruised and bleeding. How did this happen anyway?"

"He was in my front yard, drunk. He said he needed help. So I decided to let him stay the night. He got a little violent once, while I was trying to help him stand."

"So he stayed the night?"

"yes."

"So where is he now?"

"He was gone by the time I got downstairs."

"So he went to your house, fought you when you were trying to help him, and then bolted?"

"Well when you say it that way…I guess yes, that's the jist of it."

Derek sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Meredith…that is just twisted. You have to press charges, or let me talk to him. He had no right to treat you like that."

"Derek….just drop it. I told you I didn't want you to freak out. Please, just let this go."

Derek sighed stared into her eyes. "Okay." he said simply. Meredith sighed in relief.

"I'll talk to you later, okay? You should probably rest a couple of more hours. I'll be back to check, but I've got to oversee some rounds." He paused and kissed her gently, not on the mouth, but on her hurt cheek. "I love you, and feel better." Meredith closed her eyes and tried to make sense of her life.

Derek left the room, and leaned his back against the wall right outside. No way he was letting this go. He knew Meredith-if he had told her of what he wanted to do, she would've pushed him away further. He was used to this, and even if he didn't like it, he would wait for her. He loved her and her faults. Right now, and he didn't know why, she wanted to be a better person and wanted to help Thatcher. This was all very odd to him. He would do something to Thatcher, but he was also confused about how to act with Meredith. Would she feel betrayed if he denied her wish? He made his way down the hallway, and reached for his pager when it beeped.

_Pit-Thatcher Grey_

Derek ran to the pit, feeling confused and disoriented.


End file.
